


In dreams, I saw you

by Xachyn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, DaiSuga Week 2020, Establishing Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xachyn/pseuds/Xachyn
Summary: This right here, was the physical manifestation of all of his emotions, tucked away in this little museum of memories, now exposed for his best friend to see.From the bottom of the box, Daichi carefully withdrew an old school notebook. Its cover was mostly faded, but the text on the front was still legible, even if barely. The words “Karasuno High School Volleyball Log - June 2010” were printed in Suga’s neat handwriting. Suga gasped.“You kept that?”
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 72





	In dreams, I saw you

Under Daichi’s bed, there lived a box. 

The box is mostly nondescript and unimpressive, a white and grey shoebox that used to hold a brand new pair of court shoes, repurposed for a second life. It’s well-worn and frayed around the edges, the hinge of the lid close to giving way. Despite that, there wasn’t a speck of dust on it, clean in the way only something frequently in use remained. 

“Don’t judge me for this,” Daichi joked, hating the way his voice shook despite his best efforts to steel his nerves. Across from him, Sugawara Koushi, his best friend of three years and team vice-captain, sat across from him, knees pulled up to his chest as he watched Daichi with curiosity. 

“Only if you really deserve it,” Suga returned in soft humour, misunderstanding him. 

Daichi’s not afraid of Suga making fun of him. Instead, he’s frightened that he’s read every signal wrong, misunderstood every glance, mistaken every lingering touch for something more. He’s terrified of destroying their friendship of three years over a stupid mistake born from wishful thinking. 

The box sat between them, innocuous, a barrier that prevented him from leaning over. Maybe it could be a bridge too. 

Daichi took a deep breath, and opened the box with care. 

“Do you remember,” Daichi said, “In our first year in the volleyball club, when I caught pneumonia and wasn’t allowed into training for four weeks?” 

Suga laughed, gentle as he always was. “You were so bitter, because you were convinced that Takashi-senpai hated you, and you didn’t want to give him reasons to dislike you even more.” 

Daichi laughed as well, because Suga’s voice had been a voice of comfort of him since then, maybe even before. “You came by every day, even though you lived fifteen minutes away.” 

From the bottom of the box, he carefully withdrew an old school notebook. Its cover was mostly faded, but the text on the front was still legible, even if barely. The words “ _Karasuno_ _High School Volleyball Log - June 2010_ ” were printed in Suga’s neat handwriting. Suga gasped. 

“You kept that?” 

“Yes,” Daichi kept his voice even, because he’s at a breaking point, because Suga needed to know he had a supernova of emotion in his heart that was all due to him, because he’s losing sleep, restless from his endless fear of regrets from squandered opportunities, “even thought we had only known each other for two months, you didn’t laugh at me for wanting to make team captain. I was so miserable, not being allowed into the gymnasium by sensei, and you knew that. I will never forget how you noted down everyone’s activity during practice and then animatedly narrating everything to me every evening for four weeks. I am so grateful to you, and for everything that you do.”

“Oh, Daichi…” Suga trailed off, and Daichi looked away, too afraid to start sifting through the layers of what Suga might say, what Suga would say.

He stared resolutely at the two dozen or so weird knick-knacks in the little box. An old train ticket to Fukushima from that spur-of-the-moment trip one weekend two years ago. A volleyball sticker that Suga had found in a shop that he thought Daichi would like. A plastic fish from their first summer festival together. A small stack of postcards they had written to each other while pretending they were holidaying in some distant country to get through the exam season. 

This right here, was the physical manifestation of all of his emotions, tucked away in this little museum of memories, now exposed for his best friend to see.

“Sorry, I just…” _really wanted you to know. How important you are to me. How much everything that you have ever done meant so much, beyond the sum of its parts._ _How much I want for us to keep making these memories, together, like this, maybe even more._ He choked on the words that he’s spent days rehearsing, and instead they fall from his lips in a broken stutter. Because, really, _really_ , how could anything he say fully convey the iridescent myriad of sentiments that catches him breathless during slow afternoon lessons, leaves him inspired during their worst matches? 

From the corner of his eye, Suga shifted, standing up. Daichi froze, because this was it, the realisation of his worst nightmares, because shame on him for ever thinking otherwise-

And then he’s crushed, enveloped in Suga’s familiar embrace.

“You’re such a dork,” Suga said, without heat, like he wasn’t the cutest dork in the world. 

“Yeah.” 

“I can’t believe you.” Suga said, and when he pulled back, Daichi could see that he was crying. He could commiserate - his own cheeks were wet too, and his eyes stinging and raw. 

“Sorry,” Daichi said, and then Suga laughed, and then they were both laughing. 

“Do you remember,” Suga began, settling down to face Daichi head on, because it was always Suga who was braver, Suga that filled him with potent courage with his samurai heart, “In Japanese Literature in our second year, we had to write and recite a love poem?”

“You got detention for forgetting your homework,” Daichi recalled.

“Yes,” Suga huffed, “Because I got scared.” 

“Really?” 

“ _In dreams, I saw you,  
_ _And it was perfect, there.  
_ _I refused to wake._ ”

“That’s my poem,” Daichi realised, and his heart was effervescent, “you remembered.” 

“Every word,” Suga said, “I wanted it so badly to be about me.”

“It  _was_ about you.” 

“I realise that now.” 

It’s hard to not descent into giggles then, faced with renewed clarity about their relationship. Like floodgates pulled open, sending forth an overwhelming cascade that reminded him of everything good on earth. The first beams of sun rays cutting through morning fog. The whistle of a kettle on a cold winter’s day. They’ve been idiots, he realised. 

“Daichi,” Suga said, lacing their fingers together, boldly and rightly, and Daichi squeezed.

“Yes?” 

“Did you know, under my bed, I have a box…”

**Author's Note:**

> written for Daisuga Week 2020!
> 
> second try on the museum prompt, was initially going to write a museum meet cute AU but it just wasn't working out at all so here we are
> 
> anyway I'm finally gonna go to bed


End file.
